Together
by K. A. Carlyle
Summary: Fili knew they would always be together, even at the end. Spoilers for The Hobbit. Rated T for blood, etc. Warning: very melodramatic.


**_Read this while listening to the song 'Get Up' by Barcelona, or something else suitably depressing and soul-wrenching. When I'm dramatic...I'm _dramatic_. _  
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**_I wrote this on a request...or, maybe, a dare...to write something overly dramatic. Actually, I wrote it a long time ago. But it only pops up now because I've finally ignored my cowardice long enough to post it. May I not make a fool of myself._**

**_Characters (c) J.R.R. Tolkien, cover art (c) Brilcrist - DeviantART_**

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The slice of blades through smoke-heavy air. The _twang-thwap _of bowstrings being drawn and then released. The sharp hiss of flying arrows and swift sword-strokes. All of these sounds infected the battlefield, bringing with them the bite of death and sting of pain. But none penetrated the ears or shattered the soul quite like the ear-splitting shrieks of loss.

Worst of all was the loss; more so than the pain, or the weariness, or even the death. For even death was honour, when conducted...well, honourably. But loss was permanence and pain, and it promised the misery of a thousand deaths through the extent of a lifetime.

Foreboding hung in the air, thick like a stormcloud, on that day of the battle. But instincts were ignored, and defiance was indulged...and the result was more than worth the risk. The problem remained, though, as it always had: how to handle the loss.

Fili had trudged on bravely, ignoring the _twang-thwap_ assaulting his senses as easily as he swung his deft sword through the air. But there was a hollowness within him as he fought, knowing it was for one cause, and one cause only: the protection of his kin. There was no nobler death than that of a selfless man for his cause.

The first stabs of pain didn't register. The _twang-thwap_ continued in his head all through that restless time, never ceasing its dull triumph as it struck and struck again without mercy, without feeling. The first arrow was nothing to Fili. It was the second that hurt him more than words could say...and it was not even his own to take.

When one sees their own brother struck down, there is nothing to compare with the rage and loss invoked within them for vengeance. As this tradition remained, Fili could have no greater incentive than that which Kili provided him; the matching arrow-strikes through their backs would be their defining spur to victory.

Even weighted down by the burden of impending death, even while carrying the weight pain and suffering, Fili continued to fight with all the courage of an entire army, despite the _twang-thwap, twang-thwap_ of arrow-strikes. A second, searing pain bore through his shoulder blades, and he was surprised to find the tip of an arrowshaft, crooked and cold, protruding through his ribcage. A third, and he could no longer use his right arm.

At long last, staggering through the smoldering ruins, kicking aside skittering swords and quivers, one makes it from the wreckage alive. But only one.

"Kili..." the dwarf called out, searching the ground for signs of his younger brother. No sound reached his ringing ears through the silence.

He stumbled; fell. The sharp protrusion of the rocks against his hands meant nothing to him as he clambered over the wreckage. "Kili," he called again, voice slightly weakened since before. He was sure he could see a tangle of blood-stained brown hair over the rocks ahead of him.

"Brother." Fili stumbled over the rocks and at last reached the younger dwarf's side, breathing heavily from the effort of movement. Kili's eyes, half closed, snapped open immediately to rest on his brother's.

"...Thorin?" the younger of the two asked, his eyelids closing slightly. Fili grasped his shoulder and gave it a hard shake to keep him from slipping away. As far as the elder dwarf was concerned, if either of them was to die that day, it should have been him.

"He is safe," Fili assured. "For now. Everyone else is safe; safe and waiting for our return..." he cut off as a sharp cough overcame him, and the arrows that had been lucky enough to find their mark scraped across his ribs with a fierce pain.

Kili's eyes flickered forcefully open. "There won't be a return..." he slurred softly. "You know...there won't be..."

"Not with sentiment like that," the elder responded, though his voice held a steely edge. Of course there would not be a return. He only hoped that Death would not be so cruel as to take one of the brothers with him and leave the other to be slowly poisoned by his grief. He could think of no worse fate.

Wordlessly, the younger dwarf strained to lift an arm and touch his brother's face. In the moment of surreal feeling, it was as if he had to be sure that it wasn't all a dream. "Brother...you speak of nothing. You, too, have fought bravely...and there is no man in this world who I would be more honoured to give my life alongside."

Fili's hand reached out to wipe a clot of blood-stained hair from his brother's face, only able to move one hand for the stiffness of the arrows through his shoulder blades. He knew, as he had seemingly always known, that this would be the end. There was no more running, no more fighting, no more amount of courage or bravery that could save them from the cold clutches of fate's hands. Terrified that his brother would slip away without him, the elder dwarf took Kili's head in his red-stained hands and retained his wavering gaze, unflinching.

"Brother...do not leave me. We will join the ranks of our ancestors together, or not at all," Fili promised fiercely, giving his younger brother's head a gentle shake. The latter's eyes were no more than slits of white through his half-closed lids, already halfway gone from the field.

"Fili," he croaked out, and a thin trail of blood trickled from a gash along his lip. "You...you always were the...stub...stubborn one..."

Fili rested his forehead against Kili's shoulder, drawing in a sharp breath. "We're fighters, you and I. We would always go down fighting."

"And above that...we are victors, today," Kili encouraged weakly, his breathing beginning to sound shallow and labored. Fili placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying his hardest to ignore the burning pain through his lungs.

"Yes, Kili. We are."

"Are you..." the younger dwarf paused for a moment, seeming to have trouble forming words. "...you scared?"

Fili tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder, forcing a hoarse chuckle. "Oh, yes, Kili...possibly more than you. But we will soon be with our fathers again; our ancestors will welcome us as heroes for what has transpired on this day."

The younger dwarf's shoulders slackened. "It...hurts," he croaked out slowly. "It hurts to breathe."

Fili gave his brother's shoulder another warning jolt as the slivers of his eyes began to disappear once again behind closed lids. "Kili!"

There was a very long pause, before the younger dwarf shuddered and let out a dry cough. Fili's fingers loosened their grip on Kili's shoulder, seemingly reassured for the moment. But he wasn't faring particularly well, either. Blood dripped from the arrow punctures along his back, staining crimson all the way through his thick coat. Not much longer, now...

Kili's face contorted into a somewhat pained smile, a last valiant effort at his usual carefree humor. "We always said we would be...together through anything...did we not?"

Fili wiped a smear of blood from his brother's forehead, trying his hardest to ignore the tremor in his fingers. "We did, brother...we did."

There was a long silence, in which Fili found his thoughts flashing through moments of his childhood. Memories were not so frequent as people; Thorin, Kili, Dis...even their companions of the last six months through the mountains. The only thing that brought the elder dwarf back from his musings was the lack of sound in the air around him. Kili's raspy breathing had ceased to lace the atmosphere.

"Kili?"

There was no response.

"Kili...you must fight it, brother, as valiantly as you fought on this sad day...live with a hero's honour; do not ask me to see you buried with it." His brother's voice was so close now, whispering encouragement.

Kili gave a small jolt, barely hanging on to his young life by the tips of his fingers. "You...look not much better...than me, I'd wager..."

Fili grimaced, unable to affect a smile through the sharp jabs of pain through his back. "No...I would suppose not," he agreed.

"Together, then...brother?"

Fili's eyes began to slide closed tiredly. "Together..."

The battlefield began to blur around him as Fili finally gave in to the groping darkness, feeling the world spiral away from him into nothingness. Yet, he had always known that this would be the way it would all end; here beside his brother, as the heroes they were destined always to be.


End file.
